How I Met Your Father

This afternoon, I was already looking through our college yearbook for this photo, when Bill piped up, “Did you hear that? ‘Stay home!’ Remember?” He’s watching the Notre Dame v. Oklahoma game, and I’m hanging around on his sidelines, planning a ginnygram and looking for some new appetizer recipes. Before he quoted our famous “stay home” line, I had already decided to write about how we met.

Bill and another Bill coached the intramural flag-football team that I joined my sophomore year. That’s my Bill in the goofy white cap, and that’s me, in the shorty shorts and hair ribbon on the far left. I am paying close attention, but not to the coaching. I am pretty sure I was hatching a plan to get him to notice me.

And notice me, he did.

I was set, in my cornerback position, ready to show this hunky coach how cute and fast (speedy) I was. And do you know what he told me to do?

“STAY HOME!”

Stricken, I walked off the intramural field toward my dorm. Tears.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING???”

Home! You told me I should have stayed home!

He put his arm around my shoulder and gently explained that it means to hold your position. Don’t go anywhere.

And I guess I never did.